My Son
by Little-Delia
Summary: His time was drawing to a close, and what was left of his life would be extinguished in a mere matter of hours. That much I could tell from the ever weakening pulses of his heart, each beat marking that he was a second closer to his untimely demise.


A/N: This was written one day when I was listening to a song on my iPod that reminded me of Edward and Carlisle's close father/son bond because the song was a about a prodical son who wants to find his own way in the world, rebelling against the way his father lives. The father tells the son that he'll be waiting for him when he's ready to come back and that he loves him no matter the path he takes. Clearly a very Carlisle/Edward song.

The song nagged at my head until it forced me to write this eight page first chapter (which may or may not ever be continued depending on how long it takes me to write my novel) This is an exploration of that deep bond that Edward and Carlisle have shared for centuries. A bond that I don't feel is touched on nearly enough in the books or the partials of Midnight Sun. It is written in Carlisle's POV because he is, after all, the main inspiration.

However it must be noted that I am writing a novel and working a job in which I work 12 hour shifts, so do not be disappointed if this story is never continued. As much as I want to go on with "My Son", my novel and job take priority over fanfiction any day. Even so, reviews and (constructive) feedback are appreciated.

Chapter 1

The "death" ward, as the nursing staff had bleakly named it, was nearly filled to capacity tonight with a new wave of critical cases flowing into the hospital faster then the staff could handle. There was little hope for individuals who had been moved to this part of the building, chosen for it's close proximity to the morgue. If the situation had been different I would've objected to this shameful practice of throwing away the hopeless cases, hiding them in a crowded space and waiting to for death to come so more beds would become available. But times were desperate and our resources were wearing thin. The ratio of doctors to patients was roughly fifteen to one, making individualized care impossible. The tragedy that was now strangling the city of Chicago made hiding from the sun difficult to stand.

Spanish flu is what health officials called it. This terribly virulent menace killed hundreds by the day. Women could be seen weeping in crowded hallways, holding their sick children in their arms. Grown men would yell in pain as the fever seized them up in it's blistering heat. Sheets on the beds had to be changed regularly when the critically ill began to cough up blood from their lungs. The very scent of death hung in the air, its pungent odor a mixture of human blood and despair. To know that so many had died in such a grievous manner, while I remained healthy and immortal, caused me a great sense of dejection. To know that while I sequestered myself to my empty home day after day, maintaining my charade of being a human in need of sleep, people who could benefit from my care were dying. It saddened me that I could help, as I did not need rest, but was barred from doing so out of fear that humans would notice that after hours of work I did not tire.

What had brought me to this terrible place of death was laying on two small cots in front of me, my patients. A young man, placed in a corner directly to my left, was slumbering in a feverish delirium. His face twisted in a contortion of agony as he breathed shallow, strangled breaths. The unruly creepers of sweat saturated red hair fell in pile onto the white pillow under his head. I had seen sights much like this one many times in the past few weeks. This is what death looked like as it swallowed what was left of a person beneath it's gaunt mask.

His time was drawing to a close, and what was left of his life would be extinguished in a mere matter of hours. That much I could tell from the ever weakening pulses of his heart, each beat marking that he was a second closer to his untimely demise. The final stages of the flu were upon him. Like so many before him, Edward Masen had been placed in this ward to make room for the latest influx of flu patients since there was nothing more that human medicine could do for him. This young man would not be the first nor the last to fall victim. Though his condition was rapidly deteriorating, he wasn't my concern at the moment for his demise seemed all too inevitable. Instead, the woman in the cot next to him was the center of my focus.

For reasons that conflicted with my better judgement, I had grown quite fond of Elizabeth Masen. She had been a rather youthful, spirited women with a penchant for over obsession. This quality was especially evident when she had followed her husband and son into the hospital. Though she had not fallen ill, Elizabeth had risked exposure to make sure that her loved ones got the medical aid they required. Our first meeting had made a quite impression on me.

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" Doctor!" She called to me while I was walking in one of the hallways, urgency and determination glowing in her emerald eyes. "You must come see my son and husband. I fear that it's serious but none of the other doctors will see us!"

The woman was quite attractive by human standards. The uniqueness of her features made her stand out among the large crowd of people that now filled the hallways. Her hair, an intense shade of burnished red, nearly glowed under the generic electric light. She was dressed in a deep emerald color that only succeed in enhancing the thought that such a glamourous, and elegant specimen could not possibly belong in a place like this.

Alas, her request had come to me in one of the busiest hours of my shift. I had many critical patients on my hands and, though I was more efficient in my skills then my human counterparts, I had very little time to treat them all before my shift ended and the sun rose over the horizon. I had no choice but to attempt to send her away or risk being caught in the sunlight of the dawn.

" I'm very sorry, Madam. The outbreak has forced us all to take on an unusual amount of patients at once. Unfortunately, with the limited amount of resources we have, we must treat the more critical cases we have before we can receive more." I told her, my regret evident in my voice.

It was not in my nature to turn away someone in need of my help, but, once again, these were hard times. "I'm afraid that you'll have to wait until one of the other doctors has space available. Perhaps one of the nurses will be able to find you a place to wait in the meantime."

I had attempted to walk past her, but I felt a pair of hands grab my sleeve. The boldness of the action startled me. I had never been touched in such a manner before by a human. Under normal circumstances, humans were told by their basic instincts to fear my kind, a that fear caused them to keep their distance. This woman had shown none of this trepidation and had gone so far as to touch me; a very dangerous action considering what any of the less civilized of my kind would've done in this situation. Her boldness was rather unsettling and inspiring.

Turning at once, my compassion taking hold of me, I found myself meeting the gaze of those intent, viridescent orbs as she spoke. "But I've already spoken to the other doctors and they have said the same thing. Just from looking at you I know you to be a good doctor, and a very compassionate man. Please help us."

Her plea, the love and devotion behind it, caused me to take pity on her. Though I had other duties to attend to, I nodded my head. "I suppose I can examine them Mrs...."

"Elizabeth Masen. Thank you so much doctor."

I followed her to the hallway just outside the crowded waiting room. There were several large groups of humans littered across the floor. Many appeared relatively healthy, while others seemed to have waited until their symptoms had become unbearable before they sought help. Mrs. Masen stopped at the very end of the hallway where two sleeping males sat on the ground, swaddled in blankets that had been brought from their home. It was very clear that the younger of these two was Elizabeth's son, as he had inherited her very unique features. He too was strikingly attractive, his unkept brazen hair falling ever so haphazardly over his eyes. The older gentleman next to the young man was much less conspicuous among his small family. He was tall, appearing to be nearly as lanky as the teenager next to him, and his hair was a common brown. Both were shivering, their faces moist with fever, but I could see that the elder's condition was much worse.

The skin of his face confirmed what my experience had told me. Cyanosis, a blueish tint, covered his cheeks and lips, a result of the pneumonia that often accompanied the flu. I recognized the gentleman at once. Edward Anthony Masen Sr. was one of Chicago's most prominent lawyers. I had seen his photographs in several newspapers. It was slightly surprising to find them resting in a hospital hallway and not having received any care. The outbreak seemed to have become a great equalizer amongst the classes of the city, bringing the highest levels of society down to the same level as the others. All, not just the poor, would die from the lack of available medical resources.

Elizabeth bent down to her son first, her long green dress pooling on the white floor like a puddle of emerald ink. Concern marred her features as she began to pull away shocks of bronze hair away from his face.

"Edward dear?" Elizabeth cooed, much like a mother soothing a small infant.

Edward stirred at her touch, a warm crooked smile pulling at the corner of his mouth in spite of his condition. I could not help but be puzzled by his face. There was something in his countenance, an aura of sorts, that I could not find a reason for. He did not appear to be afraid or worried in the slightest, just exhausted. This was an odd reaction, considering how quickly his health was deteriorating.

"Yes mother?" The voice that issued from the young man was what one would expect from a senior choir boy, soft and harmonic. The voice of a almost heavenly descent.

Elizabeth returned the smile with a sad one of her own, trying desperately to keep her emotions guarded in an attempt to assure Edward that all was well. The maternal warmth emanating from her was almost contagious. "I've found the doctor that will help you. How is your father?"

The pale lids pulled away from his eyes, revealing them to be the same incandescent shade as his mother's. "I'm not sure. He went to sleep just after you left."

Shifting over to her husband, she placed her porcelain hand on his blue cheek. It was then that she noticed his color. "My love?"

There was no reply, no acknowledgment that he had heard his wife's beckoning. She tried once more to rouse him. "Darling, I have found a doctor."

I knew the signs. Delirium had set in in her absence, the fever ravaging his brain. There would be no way to stir him. I followed Elizabeth to the floor, checking the man's temperature and pulse, knowing all the while that my findings would be the same. Mr. Masen's life would be ending very soon, yet another casualty of the epidemic.

"Why won't he wake doctor?" she asked, panic rising in her face. "Why has he turned that color?"

I sighed. "He is gravely ill. The disease has reached his lungs. There is simply not enough oxygen reaching his tissues."

"Is there nothing else you can do?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, tears spilling over her cheeks.

I shook my head, unable to hide my remorse. "I'm afraid there is very little that can be done for him now."

Never in my lifetime, as long as it was, had I ever seen an emotion so crushed touch another's face in such a way. Elizabeth's heart was breaking. She attempted to compose herself long enough to ask another question of me.

"And what of my son?"

Young Edward had slipped back into a restless sleep, his bronze head resting on his knees. I could see the pale color of his skin, how sickly and ashen it looked against the deep rust colored blanket that enwrapped him. He was already terribly ill and the involuntary shivering of his shoulders meant that he would get much worse very soon if he could not get the medical attention he desperately needed. Even then, his chances were slim.

"I don't know that there is much that can be done for him either." I placed the palm of my hand on Edward's forehead, confirming that he was febrile. The lad shied away from my wintry touch. My hands were already unnaturally cold but in his feverish condition they must've been unbearably biting against the blistering temperature of his skin. "Normally, I would admit him immediately but there are hardly any beds available."

I could see that she was trembling with torment. "I beg of you, do what you must to ensure that my son gets whatever care you have available. No matter how meager the conditions may be. He is my only child and I cannot watch him die on the floor in a crowded hallway. "

The humanity that I had been trying so hard to keep hold of all these years made me feel for this woman's plight with more emotion then I had felt for a great many years. From the very second of our meeting, I sensed that my life would change I could not in good conscience turn her away now.

Regrettably, Edward Sr. passed away within the first four hours of his admission, having never regained consciousness. This had given Elizabeth no choice but to turn her full attention to Edward, remaining at a constant vigil next to his bed. Edward was her pride and joy, her soul reason for living. In all the centuries I had experienced I had never seen a mother so devoted to her child as she was to him. With every wince of pain he made, every bloodstained cough that shook his body, I could see that she was sharing his pain. After a sixteen hour bout of endless suffering, Edward had succumb to the delirium that marked the end but Elizabeth still refused to leave his side.

It was I who would be the first to discover that she would die like so many others who had brought their loved ones here for care.

A day later, at the beginning of my shift, I found the broken woman sitting on the edge of her son's bed, lovingly caressing one of his hands. Every portion of her face seemed to have all the life sucked from it, her eyes stagnant. The luscious glow of her hair had faded, strands of it protruding awkwardly from the sides of her braid.

"How are you tonight Mrs. Masen?" I asked, already knowing the grim answer.

She did not stir from her train of thought to answer my question. Rather she sought to start a conversation of her own, simply voicing what was already occurring in her head.

"He was such a beautiful baby. And now he's grown in to such a handsome young man." Her words were dead, a hollow corpse of the person she once was.

"He's just like his mother." I knew my compliment had gone to waste; she could receive no comfort from it now.

Elizabeth did not respond, but continued on with her own thoughts. "But he has his father's hands. Such glorious music comes from these wonderful hands. He plays the piano you know."

"Really?" I answered though I wasn't sure if she had intended the comment for me.

"Yes." Elizabeth pressed her son's moist, pallid hand to her cheek. "Even when he was a child he loved music. Every time I would play our piano, his eyes would light up as if he had just discovered the most magnificent treasure in the world. He would watch me play then try to mimic the finger strokes."

She closed her eyes and nuzzled his hand, small tears forcing their way way down the sides of her pale cheeks.

"It wasn't long before he could play better then I could. I had hoped that he would one day become a composer, share his gift with the world. Now I fear that day will never come."

With a sharp jerk her wet eyes met mine. "My son was the most beautiful person I have ever known. His soul is so pure, so kind and giving. I cannot bear the thought that now he may never find a woman who appreciates that beauty as I do. This is a waste of such a magnificent being."

She tilted her head, her eyes seeming to appraise my every move, as she became lost in thought. Then, appearing to have seen something that she found displeasing in my expression, her brows knitted together.

"Do you have children doctor?"

"No." I replied, trying to disguise that the question had caught me off guard.

"A wife? A family?"

"I'm afraid I have I've never had such an opportunity." My smile was one of pity, pity for both of our current existences.

"And your parents?" Her prodding questions were making me uncomfortable. Reminiscing on my human years was not something I found to be pleasurable.

"My father passed away many many years ago." I answered as honestly I could, suddenly trying to find a distraction from my discomfort by writing on Edward's chart. "It was just as well. He was a very shrewd, intolerant man."

"You live a very lonely life."

It was true. An unwritten prerequisite of my existence was to be an outcast from the society I was now living amongst. Though human life was much different from the one I had known in the 1600's, it still offered the same possibilities. There was still the delight of having a family and loving one's mate for the rest of a lifetime. It pained me when I pondered how much I was lacking, how much of a gap there was in my heart.

But I had done my best to fill the void that the obliteration of my former life had left behind. I had put a patch over that hole by dedicating myself to learning. Learning how to perfect my medical skills and hone my self-control was what gave me purpose. Treating humans brought me great pleasure. If I could help others then surely my remaining eternities wouldn't be so terrible.

However, no matter how much effort I expended, it seemed that I would always have that feeling of incompletion. I could never have what Elizabeth had, a wonderful child of my own to love and nurture. I often found myself mourning this fact every time I would see a young women pushing a pram on the sidewalk or see young children playing in the park. That was part of a human life, a part from which I would be forever barred.

"Yes, it can be quite lonely at times"

"Children bring enrichment to a life such as yours, much as Edward has to mine. But with that fulfillment comes much responsibility. The responsibility to teach and protect. But how can you protect them from a thing like this?"

Her eyes were far way again, seeing a time and place that were foreign to me.

"Since June, my Edward's seventeenth birthday, I have worried greatly that this Great War would not end; that my child would be taken from his home and sent to die in some country far away from me. Now I find that my greatest nightmare is right here beside me. I envy that you have not yet felt that pain, the sting of the worst loss imaginable." She brought her hand to her face, running the back of it across her forehead.

It was then that I became aware of the unnatural sheen of Elizabeth's face, and hear the slowing beat of her heart begin the slow count down till the last minutes of her life.

"Are you feeling alright Mrs. Masen?" I asked, though I had seen the disease present itself many times.

"Slightly feverish. I suppose it was only a matter of time before my hours were numbered."

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I am sure her grief over the loss of her husband and her son's ailment was what inevitably caused her health to fail her. The illness soon laid claim over her body, causing her to wither away at an unusually advanced pace. Yet, despite her grave condition, Elizabeth still tried to nurse her son when she should have been resting. This made her rather bothersome to the nurses, as they could not let her wander the ward in the state she was in. When she refused to return to her sickbed, the staff compromised by moving her to the space next to her son. There she remained, feeling close to the only family she had left. Remarkably, when the disease spread to her lungs, she managed to hold on to consciousness through sheer determination.

Even now that I was standing over her, her eyes were locked on Edward's pale, lifeless body and had paid no mind to his examination. She had taken a bad turn since my last shift. Fever was consuming her, causing beads of perspiration to roll down her body in long rivulets. Her arms lay limply at her sides, unable to move due to the weakness that was common with this stage of the disease. She had lost the fight, her energy depleted. Death was upon her now, but it would most assuredly take her son first. Once he went, I was sure she would follow close behind having lost her will to live.

" Good evening Elizabeth." I greeted her kindly, despite my knowing that the evening was anything but good.

She ignored me, transfixed by the erratic rising and falling of Edward's chest. I could see the devastation in her expression. He most assuredly was going to die, and she knew it. Something inside of her was breaking, shattering into jagged pieces that threatened to tear her apart. Her desperation to uphold her motherly duties would motivate the last words she would ever speak to me or anyone else.

I was making a notation on her charts when I felt the intensity of her gaze on my face. Peering up from the paper, my eyes met hers. There was something within those emerald orbs that I had never seen before, a look of understanding and unwavering resolve.

"Save him!" She commanded, the authority behind her hoarse voice was more powerful then I would've thought possible in her weakened state. It was as if the illness that was now ravaging her body had no power over her. She wanted her son to live and not even impending death could stop her.

Reluctantly, I placed my stone hand on hers. An internal struggle began to rage within me. What could I say to her? There was no hope for Edward now. As we sat there, he was drowning in the blood that was filling his lungs. Would lying to her now really make a difference? Gently, I squeezed her delicate hand and looked at her as sincerely as I could muster.

"I'll do everything in my power."

Her hand grasped mine hard enough that if I had been human it would've been immensely uncomfortable. With such strength it suddenly seemed probable that she would survive this whole ordeal. But I didn't dare to hope, knowing the frail and unpredictable nature of humans.

The fiery passion of her conviction had turned her eyes hard and gemlike. I then knew that she could not be lied to now. Her other hand came up, nails attempting to dig into my hard skin to keep me there until she made her last request known.

"You must. You must do everything in _your_ power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward."

I could not hide the fear in my expression. How was it that she could know? No human had ever learned my secret, the secret of what I was. The only law of being what I was, was that I could not allow myself to be exposed. All the years I had worked to silence my cravings, all the time I had devoted to helping those who could not help themselves would be ruined if my lies were to be revealed.

With panic overwhelming me, I pulled my hand from hers and stepped away from the bed. I found that I couldn't move much further, as my feet seemed to be planted to the ground. She followed me with her eyes, scrutinizing every movement I made. If my heart had been able to beat I am certain that in that moment it would've attempted to leap from my chest. I wanted nothing more then to escape those hard, knowing eyes. My instincts were to run, leave the hospital, leave Chicago. But I was paralyzed, stuck in place by the mere power of Elizabeth's leer.

And then, all at once, I was free. At the very moment when my anxiety was at it's peak, the fever savagely took hold of the poor woman. She let out a weak sigh, and closed her eyes, never to open them again.

To Be Continued......Maybe....

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